


Unethical At Best

by verybi_verytired



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Gen, He doesn't stay dead don't worry, Human Experimentation, Temporary Character Death, Withholding Medical Treatment, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verybi_verytired/pseuds/verybi_verytired
Summary: ...but father experimented on him the most...He knew what he was doing was beyond unethical – letting a child die of an easily treatable wound was not something ‘good’ fathers did but he had never claimed to be a good man, let alone a good father.





	Unethical At Best

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a simple headcanon and then I just had to write it out lol.  
> It's definitely not my best work, but getting into the right frame of mind to write Reginald was hard? I feel like the flow is off, but that might just be because everything is a little more clinical than I usually write. Maybe one day I'll come back and edit this some more lol
> 
> This checks off a square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card: Withholding Medical Treatment

Number Four was dead – or at least he would be if Reginald didn’t get the boy into surgery soon.

The boy had a knife lodged in his chests and Reginald was sure that without proper medical care the boy would die.

The mission had started like any other, with Number Four being assigned to ‘look-out’ as usual while the more useful members of the team did the real work. It was while the young boy had been distracted with a crying hostage that one of the robbers took notice of him and had thrown one of Number Two’s knives. While the man was nowhere near as good a shot as the young superhero, he still managed to hit his mark with surprising accuracy.

Reginald had watched it all happen but hadn’t seen a reason to distract the other by calling attention to his son’s suffering. Instead, he watched the boy cry and try to draw in a full breath while his siblings – the useful ones at least – finished the jobs they had been given. It was only after the robbers had all been taken care of that he called Number One over to pick up the bleeding boy.

Predictably, the children all panicked at the sight of their brother in pain, but he shut them up rather quickly by assuring them that the boy would be fine before loading them all up in the waiting cars. When they arrived at the mansion he had Grace take the bleeding boy up to the infirmary with strict instructions to place him on a bed and leave him be, then he sent the children to clean themselves up before heading to the medical room himself. He got to the room in time to see Grace trying to calm the boy down while he cried on the table. He looked down at the boy on the operating table and sneered at the child’s show of weakness - Number One had been in with a broken leg six months before and hadn’t shed a single tear.

Stepping back he gestured Grace forward and told her to strip the boy and hook him up to the heart monitor. He waited off to the side while she cut the boys shirt off and hooked him up. The jostling made the child squeak with pain before his eyes rolled back and he passed out. Once Grace was done he pushed her out of his way and stepped forward to swiftly pull the knife out of his son’s chest, watching as blood rushed out of the wound.

“Sir, if I don’t get to work now he won’t survive.” She said in her usual matter-of-fact tone, but there was an underlying anxiousness there that he certainly hadn’t programmed into her.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He told her, pulling up a chair. “I'm sure the other children are hungry – go fix them lunch.” He watched her eye twitch as she looked down at the bleeding boy for a moment before her programming won out and she left the room.

Alone now, he pulled out the notebook he used to keep notes on the children and settled in. He watched the boy, who was thankfully quiet now that he was unconscious, for a handful of minutes until a shrill sound that told him the boy was flat-lining. He made note of the time before standing and muting the alarm.

Reginald sat back down on the edge of his seat and watched as his son took his final breath without moving to intervene.

He knew what he was doing was beyond unethical – letting a child die of an easily treatable wound was not something ‘good’ fathers did, but he had never claimed to be a good man, let alone a good father. Besides, he had been waiting for ages to test this theory and he wasn’t about to let something like ethics stop him.

For years he had theorized that the skinny boy’s connection to the dead ran a little deeper than just seeing ghosts. The child had always healed fast – not quick enough to make him useful, but enough to be mildly interesting. More than once he had seen the boy bounce back from something that should have probably been fatal. In fact, it seemed the more life-threatening an injury, the faster it healed.

The best example of that was when the young man had fallen down the stairs, just months before. When Reginald had seen the boy from the top of the stairs he could clearly see that the boy’s neck had been broke in the fall but by the time he had made it down to the boy, he was crying and holding his broken jaw. The broken bone was the only lasting injury the boy had sustained from the fall besides a few bruises.

So here he was, letting his son die in front of him to test a theory.

If the boy pulled through then he would be proven right; the boy couldn’t die. Perhaps he would start training the boy to fight harder, since being more or less immortal would be handy in a fight. At the very least the child could act as a shield to his more useful siblings.

If he was wrong and the boy didn’t make it... Well, he wouldn’t be too heartbroken about it. Number Four was mostly useless anyway; he was too scared to use his powers properly, he ran away from responsibility, he was intelligent but difficult to teach, and he was developing a dependency on both alcohol and narcotics. If he didn’t survive it wouldn’t be much of a loss to the Academy. He would simply tell the other children that the boy was too far gone to save and let them mourn for a few days before they could all move on.

Reginald watched the boys chest for almost ten minutes before he sighed and gave up. He called for Grace – the boy was likely beyond saving after the amount of time Reginald had sat and waited, but it would make the others feel better if they thought their father had tried everything he could to save their sibling.

Just seconds after he made that decision the boy suddenly sat up.

Reginald jumped slightly as the boy gasped for breath, blood trickling down from the pool on his chest. He rushed forward and caught Number Fours head as the boy’s eyes rolled back and he fell back onto the thin pillow.

Running a hand through the congealed blood on the child’s chest, Reginald frowned. While he had been calling for Grace he missed the wound heal and now the pale skin held nothing but a thin pink line in the place where there had been a gruesome knife wound.

Grace rushed in and practically pushed Reginald out of the way to get to the child. The man let himself be moved and washed his bloody hands.

“He’s completely healed,” Grace told him as she used a sponge to clean the blood off the child. He could tell she was confused but her programming stopped her from asking questions that she didn’t need to know the answers to. “He’s asleep now, but he should be awake soon.”

“Good. He may stay in bed until dinner, but then it’s back to his proper schedule.” Reginald gave the child one last lingering look before exiting the room and heading to his office. Sitting behind his desk he marked down how long it took the boy to recover in his book before he pulled out a loose piece of paper. He needed to make a list of the things he would need to get ready for next time.

Yes, next time.

Now that he knew he was right, that the boy could come back from being fatally wounded, he had plans to experiment.

Next time he would need to set up a camera to record the wound healing and he would need to record brain activity. Did the healing only work on bones and wounds? Would he heal from a gunshot wound to the head? What about drowning? The child may not be able to hold his breath indefinitely like Number Two, but if he could stay submerged for hours and be revived it would be interesting at least.

Reginald stayed behind his desk writing out more and more horrifying ways to kill his son until he heard the bell ring for supper.

Sitting at the table he ate his meal while watching the pale boy pick at his own plate. It was pretty obvious that the teen was shaken by what happened if the way he kept reaching up and touching the new scar on his chest was any indication. If Reginald was anyone else he might have felt bad for the plans he was coming up with. But he wasn’t anyone else, so he instead pulled out his list and made a note about poisoning.

“Number Four!” Reginald called out once he and most of the children were done eating and Grace had started cleaning up. “You are to come see me tomorrow morning for training.” He watched fear and dread colour the boy’s face and fought the urge to sneer at the show of weakness. “We will be trying something new tomorrow. You will meet me in my study at 8 am instead of the usual place.”

“Dad... Should Klaus really be training tomorrow? Usually we get a couple of days off if we get hurt?”

If Reginald was shocked that Number One was speaking out against him he didn’t show it. He shoved down the urge to snap at his favourite child for daring to question him. “The injury was not nearly as bad as it looked. The boy will be fine. Besides, Four’s training is not physically demanding – even if he had been badly hurt, he would still be able to participate.”

Number Two opened his mouth, likely to argue with him, but before he could say anything Four tapped his arm and shook his head. Reginald found himself feeling resentful that the budding addict could control Two’s sharp temper better than he could.

“I’ll be there on time.” Four told him, not meeting his eyes as he pushed his mostly untouched plate away. “I need to train harder if I actually want to help on missions.”

“Good. It’s nice to see you so willing to learn to control your powers Number Four.” He praised the child even though he hadn’t actually done anything worth praising. Between his words and the encouraging grin from Number One, Four’s face flushed and he ducked his head to hide a tiny smile. It was beyond easy to manipulate the boy. Reginald was hoping that by making the teen feel more confident and relaxed it would be easier to get him into one of the labs in the basement for testing.

“You may all get cleaned up and go to your rooms early for the night. You all have class bright and early.” Reginald announced as he stood and straightened his jacket. “8 am Number Four. Do not disappoint me.”

With that the man left the room without looking back; he had a lab to set up.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed it!
> 
> [Feel free to come throw prompts at me on Tumblr!](http://www.verybi-verytired.tumblr.com)


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